


Yes Sire

by Sonamae



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bitlets, Carrier and Sire, Did I mention Babies?, Give me Amica's or gve me death, I wrote this years ago, M/M, Momma!Whirl, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Robot Birth or whatever, Rodmus is a drama queen, Self-Indulgent, Sort Of, Why Did I Write This?, lots of swearing, robot babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 09:06:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12861300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonamae/pseuds/Sonamae
Summary: Rodimus misses Drift, then suddenly Drift is there.  With a bunch of babies.  And Wing apparently?





	1. Various stages of Regret

**Author's Note:**

> This is unedited, I'm warning you right now. I wrote it maybe two or more years ago ( time is an illusion so I've no idea ) when I was chin deep in the Transformers fandom. I'm now only knee deep and decided to share this nonsense with you all.

Rodimus dragged in a long intake and stared out of the port window, watching the light of the stars twinkle and blink as they floated by. The longer he gazed out into open space, the more he could convince himself he’d see a shuttle floating closer, one that _actually_ contained Drift on it this time and not a seven headed snake monster or an angry hoard of space bees. 

_Primus_ the fragging space bees, now _that_ was a thought to drag him away from his sorrow. Drift had only been gone a year or so, but Rodimus steal reached out through the tattered remains of his Amica bond in search for him.

He huffed and looked down at his servos, checking for any scuffs as he readied to push away from the port. As he turned he caught sight of something out of the corner of his optic that looked eerily like a low pressure zone. He slammed both hands on either side of the port and squinted into the night. 

Hope was awful.

Yet there it was again! A quickly fading trail, but a trail none the less. He hurried down the hall, checking each new window as the zone got thicker. When he finally turned a corner he saw the cause. His spark skipped a thrum. 

Out in the darkness of space was a shuttle, battered and falling apart with warning lights blinking. The right engine was blown out, causing the zone that Rodimus’ optics kept training on, and the light for the transmitter dull as if the battery on the ship was giving out. 

Rodimus cursed. How had he not been commed about this? The ship was _right there_ in front of the command window and no one had thought to mention it to the Captain?! He tapped the side of his helm and sent a comm through.

“So, unless someone is dead or getting presently fragged up the tailpipe, I can't think of any logical explanation as to why no one has put us on alert about the _random shuttle_ about to crash into the command window. What’s the transmission they’re sending out?” Rodimus could hear the startled noise of a bot on the other line before they patched the transmission to his HUD. 

At first he could only hear crying in the background., but then there was a soft plea for help, the voice muffled over with static. The transmission looped, a sign that the bot on board didn’t have enough energy to get out anything other than one word and then replay it on any frequency they could. Rodimus cursed again and switched back to command.

“I want you to comm Ratchet and First Aid, tell them to meet me in the docking bay. There’s a bot on that ship and they need help. Open the doors and get out our gravity pull, make sure they land in there _safely_. I’m going to comm Magnus, I’ll need anyone willing to help out in the docking bay. Rodimus out.” He quickly gathered up all the information in a data file and titled it ‘Fragging Urgent Violation Breech Magnus read this you faucet!’ and then sent it through to his second in command before he ran down the hall. He had to push through a few stragglers in the crowd still formed for Cyclonus’ and Tailgate’s Conjux ceremony, but he knew where he was going.

Rodimus stumbled into the doorway of the docking bay and quickly righted himself. He was still an official in charge, it wouldn’t do to look like a bumbling fool in front of strangers. He needed to show respect, but also _authority._ He was still a Prime after all.

Ugh, Magnus really _was_ rubbing off on him. Gross.

As he stepped down the ramp he noticed everyone around him was running and bustling, there were even a few heated sparks from peds hitting the floor too fast. 

The shuttle hit the bay with a sick thud when the engine finally gave out, and any kind of life support the ship might have had sputtered and offlined. Rodimus looked over the pod and saw the mangled state of the door, the metal bent and gnarled to keep it from releasing its passengers into space. The depressurized heat and steam from inside the shuttle kept coming out in short bursts as the door continued to try and fight its way down.

There were mecha putting out fires on the outside of the shuttle, shouting directions and working with ease. Rodimus could hear panicked banging from inside alongside terrified pleads and a few wailing screams. He hurried forward and nodded at Ratchet as the mech ran up beside him, intakes leaving visible puffs of air in front of him.

“About time you got here.” Rodimus teased before he nodded toward the shuttle. “Do a quick scan on the inhabitants?” Ratchet scoffed at him.

“What the slag do you think I’ve got First Aid doing? I’m going to be on first response.” Ratchet gave his chest a pat and flashed his emergency lights in an answering tease. Rodimus tried his hardest not to laugh.

“Very funny.” 

From inside the ship he heard a shout of distress and made up his processor about what he would do next. He hurried forward, taking in the door and reaching out to the nearest work bench for a plasma saw. From the corner of his optic he saw Perceptor adjusting a saw in his own hands and heading toward him with the same intentions.

Perceptor frowned at the metal. “This is going to take a while, it looks like it was almost deliberate.” The banging became more insistent.

Rodimus turned toward the door and raised the volume on his vocalizer. “It’s going to be okay, I’m right here for you. My name is Rodimus Prime, Captain of the Lost Light, you’re safe now. Stand back from the door, alright? We’re going to cut it down.” The distressed sound of fists fighting against the metal slowed and then stopped, and Rodimus nodded at Perceptor and started up his own saw.

They worked on getting the twisted metal out of the way and the busted glass off the floor, diligent hands pulling at bent frames until the door thumped forward a few Peds. A cloud of something rolled out of the door and Rodimus could hear reverent gasps of clean intakes. 

The smell was almost enough to choke him, how these bots hadn’t passed out he’d never guess. The air was full of decay, sour energon, and spilt fluids. From deeper inside the shuttle he heard the faint cry of what sounded like… was that… was that a _bitlet_?

Holy Primus above, tell him that wasn’t a _bitlet_!

“Rodimus?” Perceptor had halted, his saw still in the air as the sound got louder, then was joined by more cries.

“Get the fragging door open, get it open _now!_ ” Rodimus shouted as coding and protocols he thought long since extinguished began to bloom to life. All around him the crowds of bots seemed to organize and rush at the metal, pulling or using whatever tool they could to pry the door forward. 

From inside the cries got louder.

“Please hurry and get us out of here!” A _sparkling_ shouted. “Someone’s hurt, and Tether is having trouble getting her fans going, she’s just a beeplet!” Rodimus passed his saw off and reached for the corners of the door. Suddenly white arms were on either side of him. 

Ratchet was pulling with him, a low growl in his chasse.

There was no questioning the sound of little ones was effecting Ratchet’s Sire protocols. Hell, they were affecting _Rodimus’_ as well. He kept having to stamp them down to remain level headed, but he felt like he was loosing the battle. 

From behind him he heard a door open. Megatron’s booming voice called out to them.

“What’s going on, why wasn’t I commed about a shuttle being pulled on board?” Rodimus opened his mouth to shout back an answer, but the doors hinges finally gave way. Ratchet scooped him up by the shoulders and everyone scrambled back as the metal came crashing down with a resounding thud.

When the smoke lifted Rodimus heard First Aid shouting. “I’m counting five full grown bots, eight beeplets, two bitlets, and one sparkling.” Beside him, Ratchet cursed.

“Online or _not_ Aid.” Ratchet called as he set Rodimus down. They began walking toward the entrance.

“For the full growns I’ve got one confirmed as offline, two in critical condition, and the other two in serious distress. One of the beeplets is having serious fan issues like they said, but other than that they seem fine. We won’t know more until we do a proper scan.” First Aid called as he waved a hand in front of him to try and clear the smoke.

“Help!” The voice was soft and barely a squeak.

Before Rodimus could run in, Megatron and his booming steps had shoved bots out of the way. His fans whirred to life as he directed his vents at the open doorway.

His big arms reached into the group of huddled beeplets and scooped up three of them, pulling them close to his chest. “Which one of you is Tether?” he asked, hands as careful as a surgeons. Rodimus watched in awe as the sparkling held up the tiny beeplet and sniffled. Megatron hoisted the three beeplets he already had against one side and then scooped up Tether and held the little one close to his vents. The powerful burst of air kicked the little bots fans into motion.

“Ratchet, can you get the adults out of here?” Megatron never looked away from the beeplets as he spoke, so transfixed. Rodimus felt his throat cables tighten. “Can you all walk, do you need help getting out of here?” Megatron’s attention was focused on the little ones as if they were the only thing in the world. Rodimus was almost jealous of his dedication.

“Most of the kids can’t walk yet, and I twisted my ankle joint, but I think I can.” The sparkling said, scooping up a beeplet as it whined. Rodimus hurried in and nodded, kneeling down so he was at the sparklings optic level.

“You’re doing a great job, what’s your designation?” Rodimus asked as he reached out and picked up the bitlet from the floor. Ratchet hurried in behind him, looking over two of the adult bots as they groaned and tried to reach out to him. 

The sparkling hugged their beeplet and rocked it, the other little ones crawling towards them. “My… my designation is Stick Shift, femme, flight class, but bots just call me Stick.” She recited it out of what Rodimus assumed was habit, her vocalizer strained. Rodimus nodded as Ratchet made a hand signal behind her. First Aid quickly drew up two hover gurney’s.

“That’s an _awesome_ name.” Rodimus said, watching as violet optics looked up at him in surprise.

“You’re the voice we heard, you’re Rodimus, the Captain?” Stick asked, shivering. 

From behind him, Rodimus could hear Megatron mutter ‘Co-Captain,’ but he didn’t bother.

“Yeah, me and this big mech here.” Rodimus jerked his thumb back at Megatron as he started down the steps. “Do you want to follow us out of this shuttle so we can get you all some proper energon, maybe a nice warm bath and some recharge?” Rodimus had to bite his glossa when Stick made a soft noise of delight. 

Everything in his coding was screaming at him to pick each and every one of these bots up and hold them close to his spark.

Stick looked back and watched as Ratchet got both the adult mechs onto the gurney’s and started edging them out of the shuttle. He and First Aid were muttering to one another, looking over the bots and doing quick welds or cable clamps to stop the energon flow. Rodimus knew Ratchet would fix those bots up before they even came online properly. 

He coughed to get the little bots attention again and offered a smile.

Slowly, Stick began to nod. “I can’t carry them all by myself, and… and there are two more bots in the front of the shuttle. Dee said his stomach hurt, so Double Yew said we were supposed to get out and call for help as soon as we could.” Rodimus let his smile brighten before he stood. The bitlet on his arm didn’t stir, just stayed quiet and close as it buried its face against his chassi.

“Ratchet, the other two are deeper inside. There might be some kind of internal injuries going on.” Rodimus called as he walked the bitlet down the steps and into the waiting arms of one of the bots who had been cleaning up the floor. 

That bot happened to be Nautica, her face plates flushed as if she’d run all the way there.

“By the Moons, oh… oh come here my sweet spark.” Nautica reached out and pulled the bitlet close, her face buried in the little ones belly as they cuddled close to her and trilled. 

Across the room Megatron was passing off beeplets like he was handing out energon goodies. Rodimus smiled at the looks of sheer delight on his crew members as they held the bots.

It had been too long since any of them had seen children.

Ratchet was stumbling over the rush of passing around beeplets when he finally climbed back into the shuttle. Perceptor had walked over to Stick Shift and was kneeling in front of her, a rag held out in offering to keep her calm through the chaos. Rodimus could barely hear snippets of the conversation.

“Where are you all from?” Perceptor asked, watching Stick wipe away sour energon from her fingers.

“A place.” Stick said, rather proud of herself for that one.

“Do you need help getting back there?” At his question, Stick shook her head ‘no’ so hard Rodimus feared her kibble might fall off.

“Nothing to get back to.” Stick looked at her peds and her fans gave a defeated whirr. “I’m… I’m really hungry.” Her voice was almost a whisper, as if she was ashamed to admit it.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you something to eat. Will this help for now?” Perceptor pulled out a small box of rust truffles, and Stick snatched them away greedily.

“Rodimus!” Ratchet’s voice was horrified as he came stumbling out of the front of the shuttle. “Get everyone out of here _right_ now! Aid, get me an emergency kit!” Rodimus felt his entire spinal strut stiffen.

“Is it a bomb?” he asked as his lines ran cold.

“What? No you idiot, we’ve got a carrier in labor. Aid I want you in the hallway and back, _move it!_ ” Ratchet bellowed. First Aid dropped the datapad he’d been filling patient information on and ran to the doorway. Rodimus quickly turned on his suspension to face Megatron.

“We need to get them somewhere so they can all eat and sleep until we get this figured out. Swerve’s is out of the question, and avoid hallway nine because Cyclonus and Tailgate’s ceremony is down that way.” Rodimus instructed.

“Observatory… two is empty, it was just being used as storage. I’ll comm Ultra Magnus and have him clear the path.” Megatron let his fans pick up speed, still holding Tether under them as the beeplet yawned. “I’ve got it from here, you get Ratchet whatever he needs until First Aid comes back.”

“I’ll go with you.” Perceptor offered, hand on Stick’s shoulder as he stood.

“No, I need you _here_ Perceptor,” Ratchet demanded, “get me a fresh tarp and lay it out on the floor. He’s too far along to get a gurney.” Perceptor sighed but hurried across the room. “Rodimus, crowd control, then get in here.” Rodimus quickly nodded and stood on the remains of the shuttle door.

He turned toward the crowd and raised the volume on his voice again. “Everyone, I need you all to follow Megatron to Observation Deck two, if anyone wants to run ahead and get blankets and energon there I suggest you drop what you’re doing and run _now._ Ultra Magnus is currently clearing a path in the hallway, but feel free to divert anyone from the area as kindly as you possibly can. Don’t make this into a race, you’re carrying precious, explosive, possibly cranky cargo.” Rodimus heard several of the bots snicker.

From the floor, Nautica tutted. “You’re not explosive, are you dearest, no, you’re not explosive.”

“Everyone who has a bitlet, beeplet, or feels they are qualified to take care of one, follow me.” Megatron’s voice boomed as Rodimus turned his volume down. 

“Help me with this.” Perceptor said as he waved a tarp. Rodimus jumped down and pulled the tarp ends at the corners. They flattened the mesh and Rodimus picked up another tarp to support the Carrier’s back. Before he could set it down, Ratchet called him with an urgent shout.

“I said get in here!”

He looked up to see the front inner shuttle door push open, Ratchet carrying a wheezing white mech. A red and white flight frame was tucked under his other arm. The Carrier cried out, clutching Ratchet as he finally came into full view.

Rodimus dropped the bundle of tarp. Behind him, Perceptor swore.

“Rodimus, do _not_ make me call you over here again. Help us down the steps.” Ratchet snapped when the bot on his arm was able to steady himself.

“… Drift.” Rodimus was at the bottom of the steps in half a klik, arms reaching out to settle on Drift’s hips as his Amica, Primus his _Amica,_ looked at him in surprise. 

Ratchet easily passed Drift off to Rodimus and hopped down. As soon as Drift’s metal connected under Rodimus’ fingers his spark soared, he felt the bond between them thrum and he almost buckled to his knees.

He quickly helped Drift down with the strangers assistance, Ratchet rushing behind them to prep the tarp. Rodimus couldn’t help himself, he wrapped his arms around Drift’s shoulders and squeezed. He felt the brush of a loving but shaky EM field and felt Drift lean heavily against him with a sigh. The bond between them quivered as it tried to force itself back to life.

“Contraction.” Drift whispered in warning, his fists clenching against some of Rodimus’ shoulder kibble.

“I’ve got you, hold on, I have you.” He kept his voice low, a warm reassurance as he helped Drift through a long groan of pain. The stranger stood on the side, anxious and brushing them both with a questioning EM.

“It’s alright, Wing. He’s my… he’s my Amica.” Drift said, voice weak as Rodimus waited out his pain. When Drift stopped trembling, Rodimus took a step back and finally noticed Drift’s distended belly and unbuckled armor.

Drift laughed, watching as Rodimus reached down to place a hesitant hand on his belly. “Rodimus, I love you, and were I not about to push this bitlet out of my valve, I’d gladly let you rub and coo against my belly all day, but… oww, but yeah. Yes, oh frag-oww.” Drift leaned forward and Wing rushed to him. The two transferred him easily to the floor.

Perceptor settled behind Drift and whispered a quiet prayer. Drift made a delighted trill. “Oh, hello there Percy, how… right-no _frag_ Ratchet why does it hurt _so much?_ ” Drift’s vocalizer fritzed in the middle. He bite down on one hand to keep from screaming and Rodimus wanted to sob.

“Maybe if you’d stop _moving_ I could _tell_ you.” Ratchet’s voice was more worried than angry. He settled between Drift’s legs and let Rodimus take the left side, Wing on the right with Perceptor at Drift’s back. “Keep him elevated, Rodimus I need you to distract him. Wing, keep him calm. Perceptor, do me a favor and rub his lower back, yeah, keep pressure there. Drift, I need you to do me a favor and open your legs.” Drift laughed and let his legs fall open.

His head fell back to Perceptor’s shoulder and he groaned, panel flinging open and valve bared. Ratchet was pulling spray out of his subspace as Rodimus rubbed his Amica’s arm, worried over how much pain Drift was in. 

Rodimus had so many questions that he knew would be inappropriate to ask, especially with Drift bleeding like that, but he still had this horrible _urge._ Wing reached out, fingers rubbing against Drift’s cheek as Rodimus took his Amica’s hand.

“That’s… a lot of energon, is he alright?” Wing asked, watching the puddle form in front of Ratchet’s knees as the medic settled there.

“It’s normal, it’s mostly all suspension fluid anyway.” Ratchet reached out, hands rubbing the insides of Drift’s thighs as he made a reassuring purr. “Hey, I know it hurts, I really do, but I need you to focus for a few kliks, alright?” Drift made a distressed sound but looked up.

“Should have had a cesarean.” He blurted before his optics shut in pain. Perceptor churred worryingly as he leaned down and rubbed his cheek against Drift’s shoulder.

“It’s okay sunlight, I’m going to take care of this. You’re surrounded by bots that love you, nothing bad is going to happen.” Wing whispered, “And look, you’ve got your Amica here.” Wing turned his attention to Rodimus. “He talks about you all the time, you and Perceptor, and Ratchet. I take it that’s you two?” Wing asked. Both bots nodded and Ratchet made an uncomfortable face.

His hand rested against Drift’s open valve and pulled back, looking toward the door when it snapped open. First Aid quickly skid to a halt behind Ratchet and yanked open the bag.

“What do you need?” he asked with a tremble in his voice. Rodimus shook his head and turned to Drift when the bot huffed against his neck.

“Rodimus.” Drift’s hand squeezed Rodimus’ so tight he could hear the stress. The look of adoration in his optics beneath all that pain, the sheer push from Drift’s EM field… 

It all made him crumble.

“I’m sorry I’m such an idiot,” Rodimus started to feel tears swell up in his optics, “oh Primus I’m so sorry. I love you so much, I’m sorry. I can’t ask you to forgive me, I shouldn’t have let you leave, I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I’m sorry.” Drift hushed him, lifting their joined hands to brush away the tears falling down Rodimus’ cheek plates.

He looked so strong despite every scratch and dent, and Rodimus just wanted to curl up next to him and never leave.

“I need a shot of mesh relaxant and-” Ratchet was cut off by Drift’s horrified yelp.

“No! No relaxants, no pain killers, none of that!” He started pleading and attempting to scramble back, coolant dripping down his face plates and tears falling from his optics. Wing grunted and squeezed Drift’s hand close to his chassi.

“Sunlight, I _know_ that you’re scared, I know that, but I’ve had to listen to you screaming in pain for _hours_ now and it’s _killing_ me. _Please_.” Wing pleaded. Ratchet was quick to hush them both as he took the shot from First Aid’s servos.

“You can’t get addicted to this Drift, it goes straight into your mesh and nothing else. It never reaches your energon stream.” He leaned over after prepping the needle and offered Drift a smile. “If you really don’t want it, I’ll put it away, I promise, but this will help you and the bitlet with the emergence.” Ratchet waited and watched as Drift struggled.

“... It’s alright,” Perceptor spoke up, “do what you think is best.”

Drift hiccuped and nodded, his hands squeezing tight in both Wing’s and Rodimus’. Ratchet let out a long vent and moved the needle out of sight. Drift winced once, then seemed to relax a fraction. 

“Alright, from the looks of it your suspension sack hasn’t fully shed off the walls of your gestation tank, so your egg won’t drop fully into your valve canal like it wants to. I can reach in there and give it a helping tug, but you’ll be sore longer.” Drift groaned.

“Do it, I don’t care anymore.” He urged, spreading his legs wider as Ratchet nodded and moved one hand to his valve. When Drift flinched Rodimus thought about reaching out to stop his CMO, but he knew that Ratchet was _trained_ for this. 

Chuckling as Ratchet worked finger and thumb inside of him, Drift closed his optics. He couldn’t help but laugh as Wing wiped tears off his face.

“Ratchet, I’ve always wanted your fingers in my valve, but this was _never_ what I thought of when-” He cut himself off with a scream as Ratchet jerked his hand back and pulled a wet membrane along with them.

Rodimus could see the twitch to Wing’s free hand, how it snapped to the hilt of his sword for a few seconds. Drift’s helm bumped Perceptor’s but he didn’t really seem to care, they were in it for the long haul.

“There we go, that’ll move this along much faster.” Ratchet rubbed at the inside off Drift’s thighs, a reassuring smile on his optics. “Now, in regards to pushing-”

“I know how to fragging push, do you seriously think this is my first bitlet?!” Drift screamed. “Just help me get this one _out._ ”

“If you don’t stop squirming you’re going to tear your valve open further.” Ratchet snapped. “Hold him steady you three, the egg is disconnecting. Once it does it’s going to be a rapid drop.” Wing hummed and leaned in close to kiss Drift’s helm and finials.

They all sat there for what felt like years with Drift screaming.

“Wing, I was wrong, I don’t like this. It sucks just as much as every other time I've done it!” Drift was hushed by a soft kiss, then a reassuring nuzzle from Perceptor on his left. There was a clatter and Rodimus looked up to see First Aid laying out supplies after sterilizing them. Rodimus wanted to ask what they were for, but Drift was screaming again and kicking one leg out so suddenly. He could feel a few of his fingers bursting at the knuckle as Drift’s abdomen clenched in pain. 

Rodimus could see the swell of the egg rolling and then disappearing as it entered Drift’s valve. It made him ache but also filled his Sire protocols with an almost insane amount of excitement.

“Keep pushing.” Ratchet told him, but Rodimus couldn’t bare to look any longer. Instead he kept his optics on Drift’s face, his audios turned down. 

It felt like ages later when Drift’s screaming was cut short, his body slumping back as he started panting. Rodimus turned up his audios and looked over in time to see Ratchet cut the egg open with a scalpel, then scoop a bitlet out as it picked up the wailing. Wing made a delighted chirp, showering Drift with kisses before he let his hand go.

Ratchet made quick work of cleaning the bitlet up before hurriedly wrapping them in a mesh blanket on Drift’s chest. Drift happily abandoned his Amica for the bitlet that was still crying, his arms cradling it as he began cooing and churring.

“Oh… oh Primus, you’re so beautiful.” Drift whispered, chuckling when the bitlet contiued to scream. “You have Percy’s nose, see Percy? And look Wing, your helm line.” Drift trilled at the little one and they made a flat noise back, still unable to get proper vocal sounds beyond screams. Perceptor leaned over, confused but delighted. 

Wing reached out suddenly, scooping up the bitlet and holding it close.

“Whoa!” Rodimus put a hand on Perceptor’s chest to keep him from smacking Wing. You never took a bitlet from its Carrier, that just… wasn’t done. Wing stared at the both of them and then flicked his optics down to Drift. Drft who was unconscious.

“He doesn’t have the energy to keep himself upright, let alone the bitlet.” Wing snapped. “Right Drift?” The only response was the thunk of Drift’s wrist hitting the floor. Ratchet swore.

“First Aid, help me get a gurney. You two, help lift him onto it.” Ratchet was scrambling to his feet and Rodimus cursed as he and Perceptor numbly helped hoist Drift up. They settled him down and Ratchet grunted something at them, then ran with Drift in front of him. 

First Aid stayed behind, looking hesitant. “I... need to look over Drift’s little one, and I need to know who the Sire is.” He said, wringing his hands.

Wing raised an eyebrow plate at him in confusion. Beside Rodimus, Perceptor tensed. “He’s Drift’s, that’s all that matters right now.” He shrugged and nodded toward one of the crates. “You can check him there, but only under my supervision. You two should follow after Drift, we’ll catch up.” Wing said with a nod.

“I’ll lead him to you once I’m done.” First Aid said with a shrug. Perceptor frowned and crossed his arms, his optics trained on his peds.

“That... that can’t be right, Drift always emptied after we’d ‘face, he hated the way it felt. He wouldn’t let himself fill up. But the bit looked... the bit looked like me.” Perceptor muttered. Rodimus grunted at him and elbowed him in the side to try and ease the tension.

“I didn’t need to know that about my best friends interface life.” Rodimus muttered as he reached up to put his hands over his optics. He stopped when he noticed the traces of energon smeared on his fingers. It must have been from Drift. Without thinking he swallowed and put his hands back to his side.

“You already knew we were together,” Perceptor mumbled, “you offered, at length mind you, to perform a ceremony if we ever… if Drift ever.” He stopped and swallowed. “Come on, I want to see him.” Perceptor glanced back at Wing and then turned toward the door, his hand tight on Rodimus’ arm. The Captain let his friend tug him away, but when they were in the quiet of the hallway Rodimus pulled back and jerked them both to a stop.

Perceptor turned to look at him, confused as Rodimus pulled them into the nearest wash racks.

“Come on, scrub up.” Rodimus said as he turned on the solvent and shoved his hands under it. “Let’s talk.” He grabbed a bottle of micro-scrub and poured a heavy amount into his palm. Scrubbing his fingers together, Rodimus sighed happily when the bubbles covered up the energon.

“What are we supposed to talk about?” Perceptor asked, following Rodimus’ lead. “Drift showing up again when you’d banished him? All those beeplets being in the same shuttle as him? The un-aligned bots beaten near to offline in the pod?” His vocalizer strained and Rodimus caught the hint of hysteria.

“How about we talk about the fact he obviously still loves you?” Rodimus asked in an attempt to ease his friend. He got a ping request for a comm and denied it before even seeing who it was from. “He made a conscious effort to point out that his bit looked like you, and he-” Perceptor cut him off with a grunt as he shook his hands off and stuffed them under a dryer.

“Whatever his feelings for me are, if he even still has any now that his Conjux is back, is _alive_ , is between the two of us.” Perceptor kept his optics on his hands as the solvent drops rolled down then. “I know you care about him as his Amica, but… this is _really_ complicated. I’m going to need to talk to him, and to Wing, and from the sounds of it _Ratchet_.” He shook his fingers once again as Rodimus washed his hands off.

“You think you guys might form a quad?” Rodimus teased. Perceptor stiffened and then relaxed, a chuckle erupting from deep within his chassi.

“With my luck?” he turned a relaxed smile at his friend and waited for Rodimus to dry off. “Come on, I want to be there when Drift wakes up.” Perceptor said, pausing as Rodimus huffed when he had to deny another incoming comm. “You alright?”

Rodimus tried to smile, but another ping came in. “People are trying to contact me, they must have gotten all the beeplets to the Observatory. They shouldn’t even need my help though, Megatron’s with them.” He huffed and followed Perceptor out of the wash racks. 

As they walked an easy silence fell between them, the two of them buried in their thoughts right up until they reached the medibay doors.


	2. Heart to Mouth

Megatron groaned as another beeplet started screaming across the room, waking a few of the little ones he’d already rocked to sleep. He wanted to break faces, but that wouldn’t do right now. No matter how much his Carrier protocols were screaming at him, he had to act like nothing was wrong. 

Before he could stand up though Nautica had hurried over, her own Carrier coding forcing her to her feet. She was unrelenting in her need to hush and sweet talk each and every beeplet, even if it was pushing her thin.

There were plenty of registered Carrier’s aboard the Lost Light, but a vast majority of them were still at the party for Cyclonus and Tailgate. Thankfully that would be ending soon, and maybe once it did he could get more help from bots with _proper_ instincts. Sire’s were protective, sure, but unless they formed a bond with a beeplet or had their own before, they wouldn’t know what to do. 

When Megatron looked over, Nautica was scooping up the bot from the strangers arms and purring softly to them, fingers rubbing against their helm. “It’s alright, don’t cry.” There was a crack in her vocalizer and Megatron realized just how exhausted she was. He stood, making sure the small fan was still directly on Tether as the little one slept, and walked over to place a gentle hand on Nautica’s shoulder. She looked up, still purring against the beeplet as it went from screams to fussy whines.

“You need to recharge.” He told her, one finger brushing against the beeplets helm. “How long have you been up?” The beeplet in her arms hiccuped and curled its tiny fingers into fists before tucking them under its chin.

Nautica blinked her dim optics several times in thought, then slowly settled the beeplet onto a bundle of blankets next to two others. “I don’t even know. I had a cleaning shift, then I picked up someone’s rivet duty, then went to the wedding. I was on my way to my berth when I heard the sound of beeplets crying and I just… I couldn’t ignore it.” She stood up and stretched, hands resting on her lower back and she tried to pop a few of the joints.

With a chuckle, Megatron nodded. “I know the feeling. I might have made a fool of myself back there, but I’ll never ignore my protocols.” Nautica looked at him in shock.

“You didn’t make a fool of yourself, I promise you that,” Nautica informed him, “you took charge of a very serious situation and you kept your cool. People listened to you because you knew what you were doing. You showed countless bots how to take care of these beeplets.” She smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m very proud to have been in your presence, even if you want to keep your status a secret.” Megatron couldn’t help the soft smile.

“And I yours,” he nodded, “it’s a... comfort to be in the presence of another Carrier.” He let his hand brush against his belly and Nautica chuckled, quickly covering her mouth to try and keep her laughter quiet.

“Your secret is safe with me.” She promised. “But I _am_ going to have you teach me how to feed a bitlet properly. I only _kind of_ know how to line feed, and that’s just from my protocols. I’ve never actually dine ir because I’ve never sparked, but I still want to learn proper ways to take care of them.” She paused and let out a sigh. “I’m still worried the energon in the bottles is going to make them sick, and Bubbles won’t touch the stuff. I’m scared for her.”

Megatron let out a heavy sigh. “Bubbles?” he asked. 

Nautica chuckled and rubbed the back of her helm, then walked over to the bitlet she’d been given in the first place. Who was, of course, still awake. She’d been attending to that one before the other one woke up, and the little one blinked up at Nautica sleepily, her thumb settled in her mouth as she huffed and kicked in frustration.

“I couldn’t help it. I mean, maybe it’s the coding, but… honestly I took one look at her and I just...” Nautica stopped herself as she pulled the bitlet close to her helm and nuzzled it. “I think I bonded with her. No matter how many of them I tend to I just keep coming back to _her_.” Megatron watched as Nautica cradled the infant close to her chassi.

He tried not to smile, but deep down he knew this was probably a _bad_ idea. One of the first rules about Carrier protocols was to always keep them in _check_. If you didn’t you’d accidentally bond with any unclaimed youngling you came across. He remembered when bots he knew would rush to have a little one of their own just so they wouldn’t imprint on a stranger.

“I just wish I could get her to _eat_.” Nautica muttered. “If I could feed her, I’m sure she’d get some well needed recharge. There’s only so much I can do when she won't take the bottle.” She sighed, her engine purring in an attempt to lull the bot in her arms to sleep.

Megatron looked around him and attempted to send a few pings to Rodimus, only to have each of them rejected. He scowled, but quickly set his face. “Nautica, follow me.” He waved her behind a few crates and she followed, visor flipping up as he looked around once again. He had to make sure they were completely alone, and he had to let Nautica know he was putting his utmost trust in her.

Not that he actively kept his Carrier status a secret, but no one had ever asked him so he’d never corrected the assumptions.

“Megatron, why are we behind these crates?” Nautica asked in a whisper as she settled down on one of them. Megatron pulled out a crate across from her, sitting and letting out a sigh.

“I’m going to teach you how to line feed.” He watched as Nautica stared at him in shock. “I know I told you all not to get attached, that we wouldn’t be keeping them, but… if you’ve already bonded with this bot and they aren’t eating…” He shrugged and tried to ignore the warm brush of gratitude from Nautica’s EM field.

She was such a touchy bot. He might have been getting used to it, but sometimes it still startled him at how open she let herself be. He honestly worried for her sometimes.

“Thank you.” Nautica shifted on the crate, then looked down at her little one. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” She ran a finger over a bit of still forming kibble around Bubbles helm and smiled. Megatron nodded and tapped his chassi.

“You said you knew how, but you’d never done it. Line feeding is more than just _knowing_ , you bare your spark to your offspring. They grow from the very light you live by, they bask in it and it keeps them safe. Line feeding is a commitment that once you start, you can’t suddenly decide to stop. This bot will be yours, and if they have a Sire or a Carrier they already belong to, you’ll have to fight them for dominance or join their fold. Do you understand?”

Nautica nodded her head vigorously. “It sounds so poetic when you say it like that.” There wasn’t a doubt in Megatron’s mind that Nautica was so deeply bonded with this child that she’d slaughter armies for her. He smiled, relaxing on the crate.

“When you open your chassi and expose your spark, there is a hard-line tube that’s bulkier than the rest near the left. It will feel softer and lighter to the touch, and your protocols should tell you by feel that this tube is what you need.” Megatron watched Nautica nod. “Before you disconnect it from the pump behind your spark, pinch the tube near the connector cable. That will keep any leakage from pouring into your chassi. Once you’ve disconnected just offer it to Bubbles, she’ll know what to do after that. Oh, and burp her afterwards to make sure any air she’s swallowed goes up the proper tubes and she doesn’t get a digestion ache.” He sighed once he’d finished and Nautica looked at him almost puzzled. “… What?”

She shrugged, tapping her chassi to unlock her armor. “Nothing. Well, no that’s not true, it’s just… the way you describe it… Have you… have you had a bitlet before?” she pulled off her chest plate and set it beside her, protoform exposed. Megatron just smiled at her and stood up.

“Be sure to pinch your cable once she’s done eating, it might drip slowly, but it still drips.” He walked away before she could ask him anything else. 

Now, why the _frag_ wasn’t Rodimus answering his pings?


	3. Contemplation Versus Action

Ratchet had insisted everyone wait in the recovery room until he was done checking Drift over. They could stop freaking out any klik now. 

Rodimus knew he was just trying to calm everyone down, but he didn’t think any of them _could_. Wing and the bitlet had walked in not long after he and Perceptor had, and had gotten a bench dragged into the recovery room for him. 

He looked as tired as the Pits.

“Hey,” Wing’s voice was short and ready to cut out, “I need to recharge _very_ badly. I know it’s an awful thing, but I haven’t slept in orns. I can’t plug myself in with the bitlet asleep in my arms.” Perceptor walked over without thinking, arms around Wing to keep him steady when he noticed how he was wavering.

“I’ve got you.” Perceptor settled Wing against his side. The fliers body groaned and creaked as it rested, and Rodimus grabbed the wall charger and dragged it over to Wing. He hooked the magnet to Wing’s chest and flopped the cord over the back of the bench.

“Do you want us to hold the bitlet for you? Give your arms a rest?” Rodimus asked.

Wing smirked and held out his arms, to which Perceptor readily scooped up the infant and cradled it. Perceptor never looked up as he took the three steps to the chair across the room and sat there in adoration. Rodimus smiled, knowing how good it must feel as a Sire to hold a sleeping spark and shower it with affection. If he had the time, he’d be next to hold them.

He shook his head and sat down on the remaining chair as Wing slid to the bench. He was facing Wing and the bed that Drift would be on soon enough. The bots optics had shuttered and Rodimus knew he was a kilk away from recharge, if he wasn’t there already. 

This gave him time to think, time to assess. 

It also gave him time to answer those stupid pings just so they’d stop coming in.

With a huff, he let the ping for an incoming comm trickle in. It was Megatron, which didn’t really surprise him, but the fact he was sending text instead of audio did.

_:“We need help.”:_

Rodimus raised his eyebrow ridges and sent back a reply of _‘You’re a co-captain. You have the same access I do.’_ He didn’t have to wait long for a reply.

_:“I need you to comm Ultra Magnus. He won’t read my text and for some reason everyone seems to be having issue getting hold of him. We need more energon, heavily filtered with as many low grade additives as possible. We need more blankets, there aren’t enough and some of these beeplets are shivering. We need more oil for soaking them in, and solvent for cleaning them off. There are two bitlets, but Nautca has claimed one of them, eight unclaimed beeplets, and the sparkling. We need a medical professional to look over some of these bots. We need to know about the bots on that shuttle. We need to know where they are from and_ why _they are_ here. _”:_

Rodimus let out a long sigh. Perceptor looked up as he rocked the newborn. “What’s wrong?” He asked, voice a whisper.

“Megatron is sending me a list of demands.” He whispered back. “He’s got valid points, but I’m not sure if now is... really the time?” Perceptor gave Rodimus a look and he rolled his optics.

Just then, Ratchet pushed open the door with Drift on a hover gurney that he easily moved over to the berth. Rodimus tabbed the conversation down and stood up.

“Is he-” 

Ratchet cut him off with a smile. “He’s fine, just recharging.” He looked over at Wing and smiled. “Ah, good, I was going to force that bot down if he wasn’t sitting when I got in here.” Ratchet turned and settled Drift in before he started hooking him up to several different monitors. When he was done, his hands lingered on Drift’s wrist before he turned back to Rodimus. “He’ll be fine.”

“I’m glad he’s alright, I knew you’d take care of him.” Rodimus whispered, optics flickering between them.

“When he wakes up I need you to go easy on the questions. He’s going to be _very_ groggy and probably in a lot of pain. The best thing you can do is give him his bitlet and wait until he’s gotten his processor in order. Best to direct any and all questions to _that one_ when _he_ wakes up.” Ratchet motioned toward Wing and then stretched his arms above his helm.

“Understood, but do you think you could do me a favor before you do anything else?” Rodimus asked. He pulled up Megatron’s list and forwarded it to Ratchet’s personal line when he raised an optic ridge. As Ratchet read over it, he sighed.

“He’s got plenty of valid points.” He grumbled. Rodimus wanted to agree, but he was too tired. “Comm Swerve for the energon, I’ll send First Aid down there once he’s gotten cleaned up. After I finish patching up the two bots from the shuttle I’m sure Utra Magnus will want to start their interviews. I’ll go check out the little ones after all of that for a second round. That good enough for you Captain?”

Rodimus nodded as Ratchet looked back at Drift with a bit of hesitation. It didn’t take a genius to see the love in Ratchet’s optics, but Rodimus kept quiet as the medic shook his helm and shuffled toward the door.

“Comm me when he wakes up.” Was all Ratchet said before he hurried out the door. 

With a slow smile, Rodimus turned to look at the sleeping form of Drift. As Drift’s chest rose, Rodimus’ optics strayed to Perceptor sitting next to his side as he held the bitlet close to his spark. He could see Wing out of the corner of his optic and he smiled, finally relaxing.

Slowly his optics moved back to Drift and he hesitantly reached out through the tattered remains of their bond to stroke at his sleeping EM field. Faintly he felt the echo of Drift’s warmth; a gentle, sleepy nudge against his own before it settled back into a dream. Rodimus had to force his fans to start, force _himself_ not to crumple as he felt the raw edges of their bond try knitting together and _failing_.

They would need to re-bond if they wanted that true connection back, and the _if_ was the part that really killed Rodimus. Drift might have only been sweet to him because his emotions were running wild due to delivery, what if he didn’t actually _want_ to connect again? What if as soon as he was able to walk he’d force himself back into exile without telling Rodimus? What if…

A ping saved him from his thoughts and he answered it quickly.

_:“What happened? You and Megatron are agreeing on things, I don’t like it.”:_

Of course it was Ultra Magnus. One of the few, delightful times Rodimus was glad to see his icon through a ping.

How was Rodimus going to _answer_ that? 

_:“Well, it’s a very long story that I don’t have a lot of the answers to. Ask Megatron.”:_ As an after thought, he sent another ping. _:“And remove Drift’s ban from the Lost Light effective immediately. Captain’s orders. Oh! And order Swerve to send a crate full of nutrient rich energon in bitlet bottles to Observation Bay two.”:_ He didn’t wait for a response before he closed the line.

There was a patched cut below Drift’s right optic that had to have bled profusely when he first got it. From the looks of it, Ratchet had scrapped out an infection. He was obviously suffering from signs of malnutrition as well, and it broke Rodimus the longer he looked. Every few kliks he would catalogue a new injury, and the longer it went on the worse they got.

He didn’t even care about his popped finger joints, they seemed like nothing compared to Drift’s scars. He closed his optics and cast a glance over at Wing. The flier hadn’t been given proper treatment since he arrived, there was no telling what was wrong with _him_. The outermost layer of his armor seemed to hang off him, as if his frame didn’t fit it right anymore. What had these bots _been_ through?

Rodimus tried not to groan before he sent a request to Ratchet to check over Wing as soon as they were able. This would be the longest night of his life, and he didn’t even feel bad about it. Instead of lingering over the negative, he reached out with his EM field once again and wrapped Drift in it, resting his chin on his busted hand as he went back to staring at his Amica.


	4. Various Misspelling of the word Baby

Ultra Magnus mumbled as he sent off order after order in quick succession. Megatron was at least more informative than Rodimus, but he was far more clipped with his list of _demands_. Honestly, a Sire like Megatron telling a _Carrier_ like Magnus what he needed to take care of beeplets? Sure, everything on the list was _right_ , but… maybe Megatron didn’t know? Most Sire’s would never challenge the parental authority of a Carrier, most smart ones at least. And according to the registry, all Megatron had to do was look through the list and find out who was listed as a Carrier.

Then again… maybe he didn’t know about the registry? No one had really had the time to slip that into a meeting after all.

He sighed and sent the request to Skids ( since Swerve would never reply ), and was immediately pinged by Swerve. His icon was bouncing through the ping.

_:“Oh no oh no why do you need formula whose carrying? Is it Domey? I mean he does look pretty fat recently.”:_

Ultra Magnus had to stop mid-step on his way to the medbay and stare at the ping.

_:“…wait… that came out wrong.”:_

With a heavy sigh, Magnus sent a quick reply before he continued walking.

_:“We seem to have taken on very precious cargo from a wandering Cybertronian ship that crash-docked into us. I do not have all the details as I am on my way to question two of the mecha now; I have been sent several requests for formula and any other items a youngling might require. As a fellow Carrier, I trust you can help me keep the mecha aboard calm around the little ones we are now in charge of?”:_

All he got was a jumbled mess of absolute delight from Swerve, along with several misspellings of the word ‘Babies’ over and over again. He let his fans heave. He should have contacted Rung instead. At least _he_ wouldn’t have over-reacted.

Shaking his helm, he tabbed the comm line down and set his status to ‘Busy: On Official Duty’ and walked into the medical room Lancet directed him to.

“They’re in here, go easy on them.” Was all the mecha said before they disappeared down the hall. Magnus nodded to himself and pulled out a datapad to take notes and file his report, then he entered the room.

The two strange mecha stared up at him from the medberth’s they’d pushed together. They were bleary optic’d and hooked up to feeding tubes in their throats. They seemed utterly squished together. Twin sparks from the looks of it, each utterly exhausted and leaning into the other for support. 

By now the whole of the Lost Light would have heard about what had happened because of Swerve, and here Magnus was left to pick up the pieces. As _always._ At least these two pieces seemed docile.

And awake. They seemed eager to respond despite being utterly drained and near offline. As he pulled up a chair, he found that questioning them had been fairly easy. 

They were two fliers by the names of Hack and Slash, and they were both survivors of what had once been New Crystal City. They were Knights of Light and had been tasked as Sire’s and Knight’s to take the future of Cybertron _home_. 

Them and two other Knights.

Knights that simply went by the names _Dee_ and _Double Yew_.

With another sigh, Magnus rubbed the bridge of his nose after they gave him as brief explanation.

“Explain this to me again?” he needed the clarification, “ _how_ did your shuttle end up so battered?”

Slash covered a yawn and shook his head, the other hand scratching at the injection line for one of the cables Ratchet had him hooked to.

“We were flying low, trying to stay away from as many populated sectors as possible,” Hack said, “but someone must have caught us on radar because we were attacked.” Slash nodded slowly as he looked his brother over and then turned to Magnus.

“If those two hadn’t been on board… we were too busy tending to the little ones to fight back.” Slash looked ashamed. “We were… _are_ new to fighting. It’s not something we grew up doing, and they don’t really prepare you for a fight like they should in New C.C. They prepare you for a calculated spar. It’s not that we don’t know how, we do, but we didn’t know how to properly react when things got dirty.” He looked away and Hack leaned his head on his twins shoulder.

“We did our best, that’s all we can really say. We kept the little ones safe but we were outmatched. Dee shouldn’t have fought with how heavy he was with that egg, but he did anyway. He killed the mecha and started rerouting our power when it was obvious we were in a bad state. One of the little ones even managed to get a message out. Stick really pulled her weight. She’s going to be such a leader when she grows into her upgrades.”

Magnus watched the two loop their fingers together as their optics closed, already drained from a simple questioning. He wanted to sigh and demand they focus, but he knew now was a very inappropriate moment for such a venture. He settled for easier questions.

“Are either of you a Sire to any of the younger bots that were aboard?” He asked, fingers poised over the datapad. Hack looked at his fingers looped with Slash’s and frowned. Slash shook his head no, slow and almost sad.

“No, all of the little ones are orphans. Their Carriers and Sires either gave them up or were offlined. We were hoping Cybertron would have some sort of adoption center set up with the Bitlet Boom going on.”

Ultra Magnus’ fingers froze over his data pad. “The… Bitlet Boom?” He approached the words as if they were Whirl after a bender. Cautious, but ready to back away slowly should something go awry. 

Also, the name sounded like something Swerve would have come up with, and that was never good.

Hack nodded, looking confused at Magnus’ reaction. “Yes, the war is over, it’s spread across the galaxy. Cybertronian’s from all ilk are finally having the younglings they couldn’t during the fighting.” He said as Slash chuckled.

“A sea of tiny, crying mechlings.” Slash’s optics shut and the monitor he was connected to gave a soft ping. “So many tiny peds.” Hack looked over, free hand reaching up to brush against his brothers helm. “Teeny tiny fingers.”

Ultra Magnus couldn’t help but smile. That _did_ sound delightful, if not mildly concerning. Especially since _Starscream_ had been in charge when he’d last left Cybertron. 

… Now _there_ was a thought, Starscream surrounded by beeplets. Better yet, Starscream, Pride and Prince of Vos, Armada Leader, swollen to term and waddling about with an egg ready to drop. Was Starscream even a Carrier?

He had to shut that thought down as soon as possible. Now was not the time to laugh in front of strangers.

The monitor pinged again and Ultra Magnus sighed, saving his report and switching his datapad off. “I think that’s as much as I can rightly get out of you two for now, you must be exhausted. Feel free to rest, you are in good company and no one on board will harm you.” Standing, he attempted to broadcast comfort with his frame. “You are under the protection of the Lost Light, as well as Rodimus Prime himself. Rest well, I will check back in on you tomorrow.”

Not to say that he wasn’t going to have them monitored the entire time, but at least for now he could leave them to themselves in their recovery room. He had more important things to do, like see these younglings for himself. It wasn’t like he could get attached or anything, he was far more professional than that.


	5. Paternity Test Required

The NU753 drone nurse was quick and efficient when it slipped into the room and gave Wing a fast once over, and while it was there it gave their Captain a quiet nod before its optics narrowed in on his crushed and popped fingers. Once Wing was cleared and hooked to an energon drip, it floated over and held out one tiny hand and _Peep’d_ impatiently. Rodimus looked up at it with a small smile.

“Nuh uh.” He protested playfully.

The drone _Peep’d_ again, this time with more insistence as its tiny fingers made grabbing motions at him. Rodimus had to fight not to chuckle, watching the cute little drone demand he fork over his hand. In all fairness the little thing _was_ just trying to do its job, but at the same time denying them was so much fun. They always went fluttering to Ratchet to tell on him, especially this one. 

_‘Poor little nurse, how dare Rodimus be rude to you, do you want me to smack him? I’ll go smack him, here hold my clipboard.’_

NU753 was his favorite to tease, but also the best of the little medical drones known on the ship.

“I just don’t wanna.” Rodimus teased.

NU753 visibly pouted, which was a feat to behold from a drone with no mouth. It’s tiny arms drooped, it’s little floating hover dropped a few inches as its tiny visor dimmed. If Rodimus really didn’t want medical care, NU753 couldn’t force it on him, it went against his programming. 

Only a Cybertronian had the right to decide. Well, that or a CMO.

NU753 _‘Peep’d_ again anyway, this time as a question, both hands out.

“Oh, if you insist.” Rodimus’ grin felt like it was splitting his face as he held up his hand and listened to the delighted trill NU753 made as it dove for his fingers. A tiny laser scalpel replaced one arm and it went to work, visor bright.

Rodimus smiled and reached out with his other hand to give the drone a reassuring pat, but it just trilled at him to let him know he was busy. Work first, affection later.

“You seem to work well with little ones.” Wing’s voice caught his attention and Rodimus looked up. The mecha had forced himself to sit up and unplug from the recharge station, wincing at the fresh welds and replacement metal tucked against his body. “That takes great skill.”

Oh, Rodimus had to go there. “So does rising from the dead. Since, you know, last I heard, _you were dead._ ” 

Wing snorted and lifted his shoulders in a quiet laugh. Rodimus looked over at Perceptor and saw that he’d reclined in the chair, sleeping with the bitlet atop his chest. Turning back to Wing, he nodded at the energon drip.

“You should try and recharge some more, he’s not awake yet.” Rodimus said before he turned his helm to Drift and smiled. He was drooling into the pillow tucked under his helm.

“I don’t think sleep is going to come back to me at the moment, I’d have better luck meditating at this point.” Wing wiggled on his bench and got a very rude _Peep_ from NU753 as it looked up and glared at him. “Alright, I’ll stay still.” He smiled at the drone and relaxed into the seat.

Rodimus let his fans churn, head resting on his free arm as NU753 worked diligently. Occasionally he would glance from Wing, to Perceptor, then to the little one resting soundly on his chest. 

“… You can ask, you know. I can see it in your optics.” Wing said after a few kliks, arms crossed as NU753 finally finished with Rodimus’ fingers and declared him fit for duty. Rodimus accepted the ‘Healthy and Wealthy’ sticker directly pressed to his cheek and looked back at Wing in confusion.

“Ask what?” He gave NU753 a little wave before rubbing one of his fixed fingers over the sticker. Where he’d gotten them Rodimus still didn’t know, but his bet was on Rung.

“About the bitlet. You can ask, everyone has asked so far _except_ for you.” Wing looked over and sighed dreamily, optics resting on the little one as it twitched tiny fingers in its sleep.

Rodimus turned and followed his gaze. He _did_ have questions, but he wasn’t sure if he had any right to ask them.

… oh well. Might as well right?

“Do you know if they’re yours? Were you just trying to save face if it wasn’t Perceptor’s?” Rodimus asked, unconsciously lowering his volume in case his friend actually woke up.

Wing shrugged. “No, I’ve got no idea who the little one belongs to _other_ than Drift. Could be mine, could be Perceptor’s. It’s more a question to ask Drift, I didn’t push him for details.” Wing chuckled. “I believe we were a… tad too _preoccupied_ when we first saw each other to worry about being careful, and… well, after a few days there was a little green light and Drift started panicking.” Wing waved his hand at his belly.

From the doorway, NU753 trilled.

“Oh hush, you’ve heard more scandalous things from Ratchet’s own mouth.” Rodimus waved NU753 away and knew deep in his spark that Ratchet would give him a ‘dressing down’ just to appease the little drone.

Such a cutie.

“We hadn’t meant to be so enthusiastic, but in our defense if Drift hadn’t had fluid in his tank already then we wouldn’t have had our beautiful little surprise.” Wing’s gaze was full of devotion as he looked at the little one, still sleeping dreamily atop Perceptor. 

Their little fingers curled in and pressed to their lips now, soft sniffles in their sleep causing Perceptor’s engine to purr out of sheer instinct. They really did have his nose.

“So… they really could belong to either of you?” Rodimus muttered.

“Does it really matter?” Wing asked with a shrug. “Drift is the one who gets to decide who can and cannot be around their little spark, no one else. Drift is their Carrier, they get to choose… I never knew my Carrier growing up, their choice was that my Sire have me and raise me.” Wing let out a long sigh, gazing instead at Drift. “Whatever they choose, be it with or without me in their future, I will love them none the less.”

Rodimus bit his lip as he tried not to smile. “Holy frag you’re so romantic it’s actually _gross._ No wonder Drift space married you.” Wing just snorted.


	6. Future Adopted Disaster

Megatron had never seen Swerve so quiet or so gentle in his entire _life_. True, he hadn’t known Swerve that long, but seeing the ships chatterbox suddenly hush and cradle a beeplet to his chest all while humming softly was _abnormal._ Skids seemed utterly interested in the care Swerve was giving the tiny one, asking questions in the softest voice, passing him a clean rag whenever asked.

Whirl was even scarier in the sense that he was being utterly _tame_ in every respect. Apparently he’d heard the words ‘Beep’ and ‘Lets’ thrown together, grabbed one of the boxes of bottles from Swerve‘s arms, and _demanded_ to be shown the way. Which Swerve had said yes to, much to Megatron’s surprise. 

The ex-Wrecker was happily dumping a bucket of solvent over the Sparkling as she stood over the drain in the middle of the room, and it was almost _endearing._

Now that she’d eaten and slept, it was obvious that she was utterly _filthy,_ and she’d only agreed to take any sort of bath once Whirl had walked in. Which was concerning on _so many levels_.

“They're so malnourished that it's eroded some of these connectors.” Ratchet finally said as he stood up from examining Tether. “They’re going to need several replacements, but I’m hesitant to do surgery when they’re this little.” Megatron looked at the tiny infant curled close to his vent. The only thing keeping their fans whirling was the sheer force of his own or the small fan he rested them by when he put them down.

“If you don’t do surgery, how long will they survive without aid?” Megatron asked, beginning to sway comfortingly as Tether started sniffling and squirming.

Ratchet made an unpleasant sound. “Honestly, a few more days at most, maybe a week? Beeplets tend to run hot because they’re adjusting to so much all at once, their fans are crucial. The fact this one has survived as long as it has… honestly it baffles me.”

Megatron flinched. This wasn’t news he knew how to handle.

“Is there anything else you can do?” He looked up at Ratchet’s fond hum. The medic was so completely enamored with the way tiny fingers had reached out to grasp his own.

“Nanite injections might help, but they still won’t be enough. On top of that, with Tether this small, the nanites will only cause plenty of stomach aches that we can't afford.” Ratchet crooned softly, resisting the urge to bury his face against the little ones belly.

Megatron tried not to grimace. “How long will surgery take?”

Ratchet shrugged. “It’s in and out, half an hour at most if any sort of complication should arise.” Ratchet let Tether pull his finger to their mouth sleepily. “I need to check about spare parts though, I’m not sure if we have anything for mecha this small.” Megatron hummed and watched as Ratchet reluctantly pulled away. “I’ll check inventory and get back to you, I might need to have Perceptor craft some things.”

Nodding, Megatron hushed Tether as they whined at the loss of the finger they’d been chewing on. He quickly replaced it with his own and looked over to where Whirl was scrubbing gently at Stick Shift’s cheek, his optic dimly lit as they carried on a quiet conversation. Her attention was wrapped up in Whirl’s words, and she nodded and spoke emphatically when questioned.

That couldn’t be good.

She wiggled her shoulders and Whirl reached out, prodding at the circles held close to her back. His optic lit up with delight suddenly, and Megatron noticed the soft fade that was starting to change Stick Shift’s paint job from a dull purple to a navy similar to Whirl’s.

Primus save them all, the sparkling had imprinted _herself_ on Whirl.


	7. Negotiation of Compromise

Rodimus was sleeping curled up on one of the bigger chairs that had been brought into Drift’s recovery room, and Drift had woken up and felt fingers curling against him. He reached out with a weak hand, fingers brushing over the kibble on Rodimus’ helm and hummed. Across the room, Wing’s optics popped open.

“You’re up.” He whispered as he pushed himself to his feet with great effort.

“Where’s my-” Before Drift could continue, Wing had pointed beside him.

“Right there in Perceptor’s arms.” Wing pulled the cords around him closer, his body groaning. “Do you want me to hand them to you before I run to the washracks? I smell like the aft end of an exhaust and I really need to empty my tank.” Drift chuckled and rolled his optics, one arm outstretched.

“Yes, I want my bitlet first and foremost.” He flexed the fingers on one of his hands, the other still curled protectively around Rodimus’ helm. Wing smiled as he hobbled over, reaching for the sleeping bitlet.

Perceptor’s optics shot open, but he stayed still when he registered who it was and what was happening. He easily relinquished the sleeping babe into Wing’s hands, who was quick to settle the little one atop Drift’s chest. Drift let go of Rodimus, both arms wrapping around his bitlet as he pressed his lips to their temple. A soft purr started from his chest, and he could feel that telltale echo as something sleepy and loose bumped against his field.

Primus they were so small. Why were they so small? Were they supposed to be that small?

“I’ll be back.” Wing bent down and pressed a kiss to Drift’s finials, then hobbled his way to the door.

Drift stared in awe at his bitlet, taking in every plump curve of their protoform, every little bump that would one day be helm or kibble details. They weren’t the silver he knew a bitlet to be, instead they were slightly off color and so very, very _small. _They had at least been carried to term, but their conception had been too much of a surprise… Drift was honestly terrified of letting them out of his sight. He hadn’t had the proper diet for this, how badly had his lack of planning hurt their future?__

__“They’re beautiful.” Perceptor whispered, leaning closer on the other side of the bed._ _

__“They really are.” Drift whispered before he looked up._ _

__Perceptor looked a mix of many things. Scared, delighted, worried, sick. People might not have know what to look for to see all those minute details, but Drift knew. Drift had spent _too long_ curled close to that mechs spark not to know him inside and out by now._ _

__“You’re thinking too hard.” Drift whispered as he extended a hand and cupped it against Perceptor’s cheek._ _

__“I don’t think I’m thinking hard enough.” He whispered it, optics closed and cheek leaning into the touch. “We’d all thought we’d lost you. I… I can’t do that again, Drift. I can’t fathom you leaving again, you can break with me and be with Wing but you can’t just drop out of my life without warning-”_ _

__“Shh.” Drift gave Perceptor’s cheek a gentle pat. “There are so many things wrong with what you just said.” He whispered back, a small smile on his cheeks. “The first being that you think you get any say in where I go, conjux or not.”_ _

__“But Wing is-”_ _

__“I’m not _done_ , Perceptor.” Drift removed his hand and curled it back around his bitlet. “Wing is alive, he’s my conjux. You’re alive, you’re also my conjux, sort of. If you’ve got a real issue with sharing me I suggest stating it now, because I’m not giving either of you up unless you really want me to.” Drift smirked before his focus honed in on the way his bitlet wiggled against his chassi. “I’m not going anywhere for a while though, so you’ve got time to think about things.” He humed. “Now look at how small they are.”_ _

__Perceptor was quiet for a while before he leaned over, lips brushing against Drift’s arm. He watched the bitlet wake, cheek pressed to any bit of Drift he could reach._ _

__“I won’t fault you if you _do_ pick Wing over me, you two have more history and a stronger bond.”_ _

__“I will beat you with a chair if you don't stop feeling sorry for yourself.” Drift muttered as the door opened._ _

__“I mean it though, if you want to be with Wing instead of-”_ _

__Wing walked back in with a cough that cut Perceptor off. He looked sore and in a good deal of pain. Drift reached over to the on-call button, but Perceptor was already standing and walking toward him with his arms outstretched. Hesitantly, Wing let the other mech curl around him. Perceptor was slow to move him over to the recliner he’d been sitting in, but they got there in one piece. His hands were delicate as he rearranged Wing on the recliner, and when he went to pull away he found his wrist caught._ _

__“Perceptor, there’s room for two.” Wing shifted on the recliner and pat the mat next to him._ _

__Hesitantly, Perceptor’s optics flicked between Wing and Drift, then to the empty bench. “I know you mean well Wing, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to enter into a triad when I only know one of you.”_ _

__Nodding, Wing offered a sleepy smile. “I know I’m being forward, but what better way to get to know someone than by laying next to them?”_ _

__Drift snorted. “He’s only being sweet because he thinks you’re cute, he’s trying to get at your spike.”_ _

__“I am _not_ , I like to woo before I dive in, no matter how cute a mechs aft is.” Wing said with a smile. “It worked on you after all.” Drift snorted and rolled his optics, then nodded toward the recliner._ _

__“Don’t mind him, he needs to sleep and I… I’d like you to be here when he wakes up so we can all talk this through. But I won’t fault you if you leave.” Drift shifted on the berth when the bitlet snuffled and started fussing, their fists clenching and a soft whimper pouring out of their throat. “You’re probably hungry by now, aren’t you?” He scooted the bitlet over and opened his chassi, fingers reaching for one of the tubes._ _


	8. Oh No

Stick sat on the floor as Whirl scrubbed at her still developing hover engines and _purred_. Whirl was a delight to be around, and while his appearance was strange he still radiated warmth that was so eerily familiar to her. Her Sire had met a similar fate after she’d been conceived, or that’s what her Carrier had told her before he’d died. Empurata for her Sire, then death. She’d always wondered if her Carrier had been telling the truth, but now she didn’t think it mattered.

He was dead, but Whirl _wasn’t_. Whirl was as good as her Carrier, Whirl was _better._

“Optics and vents shut.” Whirl lifted the bucket again and Stick made a show of sucking in air through her vents before snapping them shut. Her optics squeezed shut before she felt the cool wash of solvent trickle over her helm and back. She could have easily bathed herself, just because her ankle hurt didn’t mean she couldn’t work a wash rack, but…

There was something so disgustingly comforting in having a Carrier wrap her up in their field and wash her off like she was a beeplet.

“There we go, all done.” Whirl chuckled and set the bucket down, then tapped Stick’s shoulders with his claws. “Have you gone flying with these yet?” There was invitation in his tone.

Stick opened her optics and stared up at Whirl in awe. “Not yet, they haven’t grown to the proper size to-”

Whirl cut her off with a scoff. “Proper size, what a load of utter ped whack.” His claw measured the width of her turbine and his optic light up. “You’ve been ready for the air for months, that scrap about proper size is just a precaution. A warning label you can easily ignore.”

“I thought you weren’t allowed to curse in front of us.” Stick muttered, but her focus was more on spinning the fans on her back.

“Oh _please_ , you’re a sparkling, not a beeplet. Are you really going to go off and tattle that I said a ‘bad word,’” his claws flexed around the word as the light of his optic rolled, “or are you going to fly up to the ceiling and touch the roof?” His antenna waggled playfully as Stick looked up at the roof, her lip between her teeth.

After a moment, she rolled her shoulders. “Will you catch me, if I can’t get up there I mean?” She looked back at Whirl expectantly, hoping for something.

His entire frame seemed to soften. “Before you even knew you were falling.”


	9. Adopted Development

“What’s Whirl doing?” Megatron asked, optics narrowed as Swerve scooped up a new beeplet and blew raspberries on their belly.

“Something ill advised?” Skids shrugged as he said it, two beeplets on his knees paying rapt attention to the way his fingers twirled around a few teething rings. “You are so cute, you have no idea what I’m doing but you don’t even care do you?” He crooned at them.

“Ring!” Tiny fingers reached out for Skids hands, demanding the items.

“Okay okay, try not to break this one.” He handed the blue metal over to the larger of the beeplets and watched as the smaller one clutched a red one to their chest.

“Tank you.” The smaller whispered before they brought the ring to their mouth.

The sound of turbine’s rumbling caught everyone’s attention. “Oh no.” Megatron shot to his feet as Stick Shift kicked off the ground and flew toward the rafters. “She’s too small for that.” He was three steps in before Whirl shot after her, hovering just out of arms reach when she wobbled.

“Whirl’s got her.” Skids looked back at the beeplets, attention once again focused on them.

“Whirl isn’t exactly what I’d call stable or sound.” Megatron argued.

“Well, yeah, but he’s still a Carrier. No amount of Empurata is going to change that.” Skids leaned forward and kissed the smaller beeplets forehelm.

“How are you so sure Whirl’s a Carrier?” Megatron asked after a pause, optics still glued to Stick Shift as she kicked out with her feet.

“The Carrier Registry, Swerve hosts a Carrier night every so often. Sometimes Whirl shows up, sometimes he doesn’t. Depends on his mood.” Skids helped the larger of the beeplets off his knee and pulled the smaller close. “Oh I could just keep you forever.” He whispered as he hugged them close.

There was a delighted giggle beneath his chin.

“I did it!” Stick Shift’s turbines cut off suddenly, both her hands grasped around the rafters as she whooped in triumph. “I did it, I touched the thing!”

Megatron tried very hard not to groan as Whirl’s cackling joined the sparklings. “Ultra Magnus is going to have a spark attack.”


	10. How I met your Other Mother

“You’re still his, you know that right?” Wing whispered as Perceptor finally settled onto the recliner. “Just like I am, we’re both his. It’s not that hard a concept.” Perceptor only spared him a glance before looking at their joined hands.

“It’s an incredibly hard concept, apparently.” He muttered.

“Why, he loves you _so_ much.” Wing sighed and moved the I.V. line wrapped around his arm. “Just like he loves me. Did _you_ suddenly stop loving _him_?”

“I’ve never stopped, he takes my breath away from a simple glance.” Perceptor’s words were sharp, his fist clenched.

“Then it’s _me_ that’s making you uncomfortable?” Wing waited, then sighed. “I’m sorry, in Crystal City it’s common to have triads or quads. I’m not trying to push you or make you uncomfortable, just tell me to shut up.”

Perceptor hummed, but crossed his arms over his chest as he let Wing go. “I don’t want you to shut up, not really. I don’t want to talk about my or even _our_ future romantic situation, at least not present. But I… I don’t want you to shut up.”

Wing hummed. “… So.” He shifted slowly until he was comfortable, feeling the tension against every inch of Perceptor that touched him. “Drift’s told me you’re a scientist?”

Perceptor grunted in affirmation.

“Do you have a specific field you study in, or is your research overall?” Wing let one of his hands rest against Perceptor’s arm, then put his chin on top of his hand.

“It’s more or less overall.” Perceptor admitted as he stared at the ceiling. “Although originally I worked security while I was amassing my degrees, but it started off in the makeup and properties of energon. I wanted to work in renewables, better farming, better chemical compounds for crops to produce richer energon. The war forced me to branch out and cover as many fields as possible.”

Wing hummed. “So you were on an energon recovery team for a while then? As part of the schooling?”

“In a sense, they needed my mapping and calculations, as well as my rifle.” Perceptor rubbed at his arm, listening to the soft cooing back on the berth.

“And you served as a sniper alongside Drift’s swords?” Wing nodded. “I’m grateful you had his back, I was so worried the armor I made him wouldn’t-”

Perceptor nearly flung Wing off him when he rolled onto his side. “The armor _you_ made him? That was you?” Wing bit his lip as he tried to hide a smile.

“Umm… Yes? Didn’t Drift tell you? I designed and forged his armor.” He shrugged. “I’m my own kind of scientist, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I calculated and crafted armor, our medics put it on. Drift was my charge, so I wanted him to be safe.” Wing laughed when Perceptor made an excited noise in the back of his throat.

“We have so much to talk about.” Perceptor decided before he leaned closer and whispering to Wing.

“Holy slag, you are _so_ cute.” Wing said, a little breathless.


	11. Gross Sobbing

Drift looked over in time to see the Perceptor and Wing vanish into their equations and rolled his optics. His bitlet snuffled and crooned, tube in their mouth as they lay there and ate. When they’d finally relinquished the tube, Drift tucked it back into his chest and began patting the bitlets back. The air pockets came up without any trouble, and he sighed in relief. Perceptor and Wing had either fallen asleep together or had begun talking so low that Drift could no longer hear them.

Two lights blinked on beside him, one after another. From over the curve of his chest he saw Rodimus’ optics staring at him in surprise.

“Hey, I hope they didn’t wake you up.” Drift whispered, one hand reaching out to curl over Rodimus’ helm. At the touch, his optics shut, a soft purr rolling across his engine as he tilted his helm into Drift’s palm.

“They didn’t, but when I saw you I thought I was dreaming.” He muttered, relaxing under the gentle way Drift’s fingers scratched along his kibble. “I think it was the bitlet that woke me, pretty sure everyone is keyed up to them.” He sighed and bumped his nose up, catching the inner corner of Drift’s wrist.

“If you let us stay, they’re going to be disgustingly spoiled.” Drift whispered.

“Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Rodimus whispered. “I lifted your ban about two seconds after I could breath again. You’re not going to be thrown out, this is your _home._ You’re never leaving ever again, not if I have a say in it.” Rodimus’ hand reached up and cupped around Drift’s wrist. “I… I want to be apart of your home again.”

Drift crooned softly at him, a sound Rodimus had missed down to the very core of him. “You already _are._ You’re still my Amica, torn bond or not.” Drift hesitated, then offered a smile. “When I’m able to get back on my feet, do you want to try rebonding with me?”

And that was when Rodimus burst into the ugliest round of sobs as he shook his head yes, waking both the bitlet and the two mechs across the room.


	12. Go Out With Us

Three days later and Ratchet was pulling away from the final round of surgeries that Tether needed. All signs pointed to a quick and easy recovery, but he was still horrified at the damage the little one had been born into. Minor repairs and custom parts were constantly being printed in Perceptor’s workshop, everyone seemed to focus on the future. At one point Brainstorm had even put down his plans for a gun upgrade and started making beeplet toys.

They were still keeping an optic on those, something was bound to explode sooner or later, and if it exploded on any of the kids, Brainstorm knew he was dead.

When Ratchet set Tether in their incubator for recovery and motioned for Lancet to take them back to their room, First Aid stepped in with a sigh. His hands were covered in oil.

“Oh, what did she do _now_?” Ratchet tried not to moan in frustration.

“It wasn’t her fault, none of the little sparks got hurt.” First Aid countered. “She didn’t start it.” He walked over to the sink and shoved both hands under the automatic spray.

“She finished it though I bet.” Ratchet walked to the doorway and stuck his head out. “What did you _do_ young lady? You knew I was in surgery.” He called out.

There was an abrupt cut in what he assumed were giggles, then a few kliks pause. “Nothing terrible? I just dropped one of those metal barrels of cold oil in the hall.” Stick Shift started giggling again, and Ratchet could hear Whirl hush her.

“You were reckless and irresponsible.” Whirl corrected. “What have I told you about that?”

“That I can only be reckless when I’m a Wrecker.” There was a sadness in her voice.

“And?” Whirl snapped.

“And that I can’t be a Wrecker until I can shoot any gun Brainstorm hands me in under three kliks without trying too hard to figure out what it does.” There was a pregnant pause. “And that I have to wait until I’m older, so I have to be responsible now so I can be irresponsible later.” She sounded so utterly defeated at that.

Ratchet sighed. “The Wreckers were disbanded.” He reminded them both before he turned back to First Aid. “Do you have a hold on those two, I’m late enough for an appointment with Beeps as it is.”

First Aid laughed and nodded, already wiping off his arms. “Oh yeah, I take it a good scolding from Ultra Magnus for both of them and then a grounding notice?” Ratchet nodded at First Aid’s frustrated laugh. “We never should have let her off the ground, she’s a menace.”

“She’s Whirl’s, what do you expect?” Ratchet muttered.

“She’s named after a _Grounder_ , I expected less flight related catastrophes! But oh no, it’s something new every day. Flight frames are terrible children.” First Aid hissed before he pushed his metaphorical sleeves up and stomped into the main room. 

Things had been pretty hectic ever since the beeplets and company showed up, and Stick Shift hadn’t made it any easier. In fact, she’d gone out of her way to remind everyone how 'accidentally' destructive Sparklings could be.

Still, after a decidedly delighted set of announcements made their way around the crew, mechs had practically climbed over one another to “Temporarily” adopt some of the beeplets and house them during the night cycles. Observation Deck Two had been cleared out and beeplet proofed within the day, and somehow the rag tag crew had set up a nursery with shifts for who got to watch whom during the day.

Skids had already taken day two by storm, and the beeplets seemed to get along with him just fine. From what Ratchet knew, today was supposed to have been Whirl under the watchful optics of Swerve and Ultra Magnus. Apparently that hadn’t gone according to plan.

Then again, what _did_ when Whirl was involved.

He walked through the halls to the makeshift pediatric and obstetrician ward. He stopped by Tether’s ‘room’ and nodded at Megatron as he set his book aside to check on the sleeping beeplet.

“They’ll be out of it for a little while longer, just feed them from the bottle and don’t be surprised if they’re fussier than normal. Try to keep them from scratching or picking at the welds.” Ratchet muttered.

“I’ll keep a cautious eye on them.” Megatron whispered, almost hovering over the incubator. Ratchet nodded and left the room without another word, heading across the hall to Drift’s room.

“That’s stupid.” Rodimus’ voice could be heard over the laughter. “Of course Triad’s are _normal_ , what, were you raised in a _box_?”

“No, but you must have been.” Perceptor’s clipped tone made Ratchet roll his optics as he keyed opened the door. “With how terrible you talk? No one says radical anymore, no one even said it when we first learned it.”

Wing spit out his energon from his spot on the recliner. Drift covered his face with one hand, knees pulled close to his chest and bitlet resting against his thighs.

“That was a terrible come back Percy.” Drift whispered, looking utterly embarrassed by his conjux. Rodimus beamed at the three mechs before he turned and waved Ratchet over.

“Hey, just in time. Beeper woke up earlier, we think they’re going to open the other optic.” Rodimus leaned closer and crooned. “Who’s the cutest pirate?”

Drift flicked him hard in the finial. “Don’t tease my bitlet.” From his thighs, there was the sound of incoherent gurgling and laughter.

Ratchet smiled and pulled a chair closer to the small group and turned it toward the arch of Drift’s thighs. The bitlet, affectionately named Beeper, was attempting to gum a pacifier to death with great vigor. One optic remained shut, but the other was bright and alert as they turned and saw Ratchet. They made a noise of recognition and kicked out with their tiny feet.

“Hello to you too.” Ratchet trilled at the little one and pulled out his penlight. “Time for the worst part of your day.” As soon as Beeper saw the pen they started squirming and making noises of discomfort. Drift was quick to hush them, leaning over to kiss their forehead and purr low with his engine.

“I know, it’s awful.” Drift lamented as Ratchet began his exam. Beeper squirmed and nearly threw the pacifier right into Ratchet’s face, but Wing reached over and caught it before it could make contact. He handed it to Perceptor, who somehow convinced Beeper to take it back.

The gumming continued after a quick oral exam.

“Lungs are working fine.” Ratchet muttered after a shrill screech around the pacifier. “Motor function seems to be coming along great, and they seem to be taking the supplements well.”

“They’re still really small.” Drift muttered as he redirected a hit to Ratchet helm into the palm of his hand.

“It happens sometimes when you go malnourished.” Ratchet admitted before he reached out and ran a scanner over Beeper’s face.

“It was me or the beeplets.” Drift muttered. Wing hushed him.

“No one is blaming you.” He whispered.

“You were looking out for everyone on that ship, not just yourself.” Perceptor leaned over and bumped his nose against Drift’s cheek.

The room fell into a comforting silence when Ratchet finally pulled away from Beeper, his fingers tapping against the scanners screen. He hummed in thought, enlarging whatever image he’d captured from his scan, then tilted his head.

“That’s… different.” The sound Drift made had him quickly rectifying his words. “It’s nothing bad, I promise!” Drift’s low growl ebbed away. “I just know why Beeper hasn’t opened their right optic yet.” He stood up and cleared away the white board. With a flick of his fingers, a schematic popped up.

Perceptor blinked and removed his eyepiece, then squinted. “That can’t be right.” He muttered.

“What?” Rodimus asked.

“It’s not there. The optic I mean.” Wing said, surprised.

“My bitlets _optic_ isn’t there?” Drift asked, the worry edging his tone that made Beeper trill in fear. “Oh no, it’s alright! I’m not mad my little bit, I'm not mad.” He leaned in, purring sweetly to Beeper and letting the bitlet grab at his cheeks.

Ratchet smiled and shook his head. “It’s not just the optic, there’s no cables or ports for a secondary optic in sight. That’s not bad, and could possibly be rectified when they’re older, but right now the worst that will happen is they’re a little clumsy when they start walking. Other than that, you could put an optic patch there, but it won’t really be anything but cosmetic.” Ratchet shrugged.

Rodimus turned to look at Drift and a wicked grin spread over his face. “Pirate bitlet optic patch.”

This time it was Perceptor who flicked his finial. Beeper squealed and reached out to haphazardly slap at Rodimus’ face. 

“This is Amica abuse Drift, sicking your Conjux on me like that.” Rodimus muttered before surrendering his face to the wet, sticky bitlet fingers as he leaned in.

“Uh huh.” Drift rolled his optics and turned to Ratchet. “So everything looks good?”

Ratchet nodded happily and let his gaze linger over Drift’s smile before he swallowed and shut the scanner a little too loudly. “That’s everything.” He muttered.

“Oh.” Drift looked over at Perceptor and shrugged, lip between his teeth. Perceptor sighed and looked over at Wing, a silent conversation flicking between the two of them before Wing flicked his shoulders up sharply.

Shaking his head, Perceptor smirked. “Do you want to get dinner with us?” He asked as Ratchet headed for the door. “We haven’t really had a chance to leave this room, save Rodimus and myself, and we were wondering if you’d join us for dinner tonight. Wing and I hoped it would spark you into rekindling your romance with Drift and beginning one with us.”

Drift’s fans kicked over, and had there not been a bitlet resting against his thighs he’d have surely kicked Perceptor right in the face. 

Ratchet turned, fumbling with his scanner. “Uhh…”

“Say yes.” Wing stage whispered. “I’m dying to get out of this _room_.” Rodimus snorted and then grunted as a tiny hand slapped at his nose. “Well I _am_ , and what better way to get out than with a doctor on call right there with us.”

“And you call me terrible at interpersonal conversations.” Perceptor muttered.

“Sure, dinner sounds nice.” Ratchet finally said, hand smacking at the door key. “I’ve got to,” he waved clumsily at the open doorway, “I hear someone calling me.” He practically ran through the doorway, face turning red from heat.

Rodimus laughed and spluttered as tiny fingers shoved into his mouth. “Beeper no, that’s rude. Don’t stick your hand in other mechs mouths.”

“Why are all of you so _embarrassing_?” Drift moaned and leaned back, trying not to upset Beeper even though he was willing himself to sink into the berth.

“We’re not, you’re too hard on yourself.” Wing said as he pat Drift’s shoulder.

“You’re an idiot if you think he isn’t head over peds for you. A cute idiot, but an idiot.” Perceptor said matter of fact as he stood up and kissed Drift’s helm. “I’m going to start making dinner. Wing, darling, feel free to sit on him if he tries to run away.”

“Done.” Wing said, far too excited.

Rodimus rolled his optics and pulled away from Beeper’s attentions. “Those two got along too fast, they just fell right into each other.” He muttered.

“Rodimus I have a _type,_ are you really that surprised?” Drift asked with a smile.


	13. Bonus: Henmother Starscream

Starscream hadn’t _meant_ to end up in a nursery, but that was where Skywarp and Thundercracker had told him they’d be. When Starscream had asked them _why_ they wanted to meet up _there_ of all places, the other two had insisted on seeing the influx of newsparks for _themselves_. Starscream was pretty sure Skywarp was going to use the magic of the bitlets to convince Thundercracker or himself to knock him up. Just because he was a Sire didn’t mean he wanted a sparkling, but he knew the same couldn't have been said for Thundercracker. Those two had been trying to talk Starscream into kindling for eons now.

The sparklings were just a distraction though, and deep down Starscream knew it. The meeting was for their Renewal, or better yet, if they were actually going to go _through_ with it this time, or not. They’d come so close so many times to just breaking the bond over the years that Starscream felt an odd sense of apprehension.

Starscream had walked into the building with his head held high and waited for two hours. Had they been anyone other than Skywarp and Thundercracker, he’d have left after ten minutes, but it _had_ been his trine mates.

His own ego aside, he _could_ be humbled when it came to those two since the war was over. Every time the date for Renewal came around he felt the stretch of the bond weighing him down anyway. Every other day it was easy to ignore, hell, often he forget he was even trined, but when Renewal came around... Well.

There was a reason he’d been sitting in the lobby for two hours.

“Lord Starscream?” The mech that walked passed the reception desk was quiet but huge, broad shoulders nearly twice the size of Starscream’s.

“Yes?” He could feel the thrum of his security detail prickling behind him. The big mech smiled, a nervous but genuine one as he fiddled with the padding on his shoulders.

“I know you’re waiting for…” He trailed off, his tires hitching up his back, “anyway, there’s a sparkling in the nursery, I mean obviously there is, but it’s a Seekerlet, and well, we can’t seem to calm it down, and you’re a Seeker, and I was wondering if you could, uh… take a look?” The little bits of kibble cresting along the mechs helm twitched nervously.

Starscream had to fight the urge not to groan.

“You _do_ realize that not every mech is good with sparklings, right? Do I honestly look like I’m good with them? You get a free pass here to tell me what you really think.” Starscream stood up anyway, he needed to stretch his back.

The bigger mech opened his mouth, closed it, then narrowed his optics. “I teach toddlers, I know a trap when I see one.” He huffed a little and then looked back at the hall. “And I know not everyone is good with sparklings, but I also know that early frame type bonding can calm newsparks down. Our resident Seeker isn’t answering her comms, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you.” They rubbed at the back of their helm nervously. “I can look up the nearest Seeker if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Starscream rolled his optics. “I _am_ the nearest Seeker. Lead the way, I need something to do while I wait.” He turned toward his security detail and snapped his fingers. “You there, with the hook, wait in the lobby in case my trine show up and inform them where I am.” He turned on his heel and started walked toward the reception desk. “Hurry up, I haven’t got all day.”

The walk to the nursery was short, the big mech making quick strides with his long legs until he halted at a door big enough for a shuttle former to walk through.

“Do you want me to bring them out or-”

“No, just take me to them.” Starscream said before letting out a long sigh. The bigger mech nodded and swiped his I.D. card across the door panel. When it opened Starscream was hit with a rush of noise.

There were children laughing and playing games, reciting the glyphs as they were taught them, but beneath it all there was a sound that lit Starscream’s entire existence on _fire_. The sound of a harsh, upset wail that was almost covered up by the rest. Without being prompted, Starscream pushed passed the bigger mech and walked right into the daycare.

One of the teachers was quick to stand, ready to halt him right up until he saw whom Starscream actually _was._

The nursery cradles were tucked into a back room, and as soon as Starscream walked through the door he could see at least part of the problem.

“Are you insane?” He nearly shouted at the nurse maid and rushed to the cradle, scooping the sparkling to his chest to lift the pressure off their wings. “Do you have _any_ idea how damaging a cradle can be to a seekerlet?” The little one still cried, but they weren’t squirming as vehemently as they had been against the blankets.

“I-”

“No, you’re just a flight frame, you obviously know nothing.” Starscream dismissed them without a second glance and curled his arm in around the little one. “Where are their creators?”

“They don’t have any, they’re one of the hotspot sparklings that haven’t been adopted yet.” The flight frame muttered. Starscream looked up at her and glared. He watched her hurry out of the room with a feeling of utmost pride. Where was this world going if they didn’t have the basic understanding on how to take care of a seekerlet though?

Sighing, Starscream found the nearest chair and sat, reclined back as he laid the sparkling across his cockpit and began to rumble his engine as low as he could. While the little one was still crying, they had at least stopped flailing about, their wings going limp under Starscream’s fingers.

The poor thing, people must have thought a seekerlet too high maintenance for them, and now here they were in the most important moments without an Carrier or Sire in sight. Their color was off as well, probably from not having anyone’s paint to match to.

He hated when grounder nurseries tried to claim their diversity by catering to your common aerialbots. They were nothing like Seekers, Seekers were so vastly _different_ and far more _complex_. Seekerlets needed to be raised by a… by a trine.

Like Thundercraker or Skywarp had.

Not like himself, who could only remember his Carrier and the struggles he’d went through when he’d refused to name Starscream’s Sire.

He’d turned out fine though, and so would this little ball of audio box. Not that they had to, they could easily be picked up by a Seeker trine.

Not that there were many left…

Damn it all to the Pits.

Starscream focused his attention back on the little ones wings, humming when they finally settled down and curled those little finger into fists and tucked them under their chin. Their wings fluttered up and down for a moment, as if frustrated by the weight of Starscream’s fingers, but soon relaxed into every touch.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, optics shut and basking in the warm, sleepy field of the newspark, but eventually someone coughed and dragged his attention away from his lazy comfort. He looked up, ready to glare at the intruders and tell them off if they _dared_ to wake up his sparkling, but the words left him.

Skywarp stood there, biting his lips with optics glued to Starscream’s cockpit. Thundercracker was in the doorway, a guilty look etched across his face.

“You’re both _late_.” Starscream whispered.

“We know.” Skywarp had to physically push his hands under his arms to keep from reaching out to the sparkling. He always had been one to get weak in the knees when newsparks were concerned.

“You’re also not sorry.” As he said it, Starscream made sure to look right into Skywarp’s optics.

“We… no, we’re not.” Skywarp looked back at Thundercracker, almost hesitant.

Starscream tried not to let his anger show, he couldn’t with a newspark this close to his chest. He swallowed it down and focused on the little one as they started to squirm awake. “Hush now, everything’s alright.”

Thundercracker was quick to step in the room, his wings hiked high above him. “We want a renewal.” His voice was soft, his optics flicking to the sparkling as it kicked its feet, small sparks bursting from its thrusters before it seemed to settle once again against Starscream’s chest.

Starscream looked up at him and had to hold back his fury. How long had he been waiting for these two, these unashamed _brats_ who had flown next to him under a flag of war all those years ago? These two had left him the first chance they got, and now they wanted a renewal?

_He_ was the one who wanted the renewal, but now that he looked at his choices he wondered... why? Starscream had forgotten them so easily, but now that they were standing there, what, he just forgave them?

“He has your wing stripes.” Skywarp whispered as he knelt down next to the recliner, finger extended to the sleepy sparkling as it opened its optics after a yawn. “Hello there little flit, oh you are _beautiful_ aren’t you? Look at that grip, yes, hello there.”

“Stop that.” Starscream attempted to protest, but the tiny fingers had already curled around Skywarp’s index and squeezed.

His spark skipped a beat so hard he felt he might fall through the floor. He always forgot that Skywarp was a Carrier.

Thundercracker was kneeling beside Skywarp suddenly, biting his lip and crooning low in his throat. “We’ll make it up to you.” He promised, yanking his gaze away from the sparkling. “Anything you want.”

“I’m not agreeing to anything.” Skywarp said, still in the placating voice he used with sparklings.

“Anything within reason.” Thundercracker corrected as he covered his optics with his hands, then unveiled them.

The sparkling trilled at him. Starscream had to fight not croon.

“What if… what if I don’t _want_ a renewal? What if I want to focus on me and… and adopt this sparkling?” Starscream bickered weakly. Skywarp looked up at him with one of those annoying smiles that said ‘Uh huh, sure.’

“Then we’ll go along with it, it has to be unanimous.” Thundercracker didn’t look up though, too busy playing peek-a-boo with the seekerlet.

“I hate you.” Starscream grumbled.

“No you don’t.” Skywarp said, leaning forward to press his lips against Starscream’s cheek. “You’re just good at lying to yourself. Real mature.”

“Says the immature one.” Thundercracker muttered behind his palms.

With a huff, Starscream sat up and replaced Skywarp’s finger with his own as he cradled the seekerlet close. “I don’t want to have this conversation around the sparkling.” He watched as Thundercracker and Skywarp sat back, a dazed look slowly lifting from their faces.

“Right, scrap.” Thundercracker flinched when Skywarp smacked him on the arm.

“Watch your language!” He sighed and glanced back at the sparkling. “When did you adopt anyway Screamer? I never took you for the type.”

Starscream glared. “It's not official yet, I'm sort of stumbling into this. It's very new.”

Thundercracker smiled. “He's matching your color scheme.” He pointed out.

“Slag it.” Starscream snapped. “Go get the Nursery Lead, I've got paperwork to fill out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go. Feel free to send me questions about this AU 'Yes Sire' over on my tumblr ( sonamaeam.tumblr.com ) or any writing prompts you want to see out of this AU. Have fun, enjoy this hot mess.


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